Quiet Walks the Tiger - By Heather Graham Page 0,40

“This is fun,” Cassie commented after helping Sloan put together several outfits that matched from the panties on out. “Buying anything you want...” Her voice trailed away. “Negligees!” she interrupted herself with a giggle. “I don’t guess you get to wear them long, but that boutique across the street has some stunning pieces!”

Sloan followed her sister with her pile of boxes, frowning. She was ready to stop in the street and demand to know what was wrong, but Cassie was well ahead of her, and then they were surrounded by salespeople. By the time Cassie had made her try on a dozen garments, she was tired, and her sister’s peculiar behavior had drifted to the back of her mind. She didn’t think of it again until Cassie was dropping her at her car. “Sloan,” Cassie began, stopping her as she walked the few feet in the school’s parking lot.

Sloan turned back to her, balancing her stack of packages. “Yes.”

“Oh...never mind.” Cassie waved with a weak smile and drove away.

“What is with her?” Sloan mumbled to herself, shrugging as she fumbled to open the car door. When Cassie was ready to say something, Sloan figured, she would. Until then there wasn’t much she could do.

At home she displayed everything for Florence’s oohs and aahs and sternly told herself to go to bed. Once there, however, she was too nervous and excited to sleep. One more day and Wes would be back, then a single night before the wedding...

She was still nervous when she awoke after her restless night. Knowing that he was coming made her want to see him desperately. Consequently, the day dragged. Classes which usually sped by for her seemed to be interminable. At three o’clock Jim caught her in her office and insisted she go home.

“I can’t,” Sloan wailed, “I have an intermediate ballet—”

“Which I can handle,” he assured her.

“That’s not fair to you, Jim,” she objected softly.

“Ah, but the world isn’t fair!” Jim chuckled. “Go home. You’re driving me insane, and the students may never be the same again. They’re limping around as if they’ve been working out for the Olympics! They aren’t all floating on clouds of ecstasy, you know.”

Sloan blushed. “I guess I did drive them pretty hard,” Sloan murmured.

“That’s okay.” Jim chuckled. “It’s good for them. But do us all a favor and go home! What time is Wes coming in?”

“I don’t know,” Sloan replied with a sigh. “But since you’re being so magnanimous, I guess I will go home. Thanks, Jim.”

“Thank you,” he told her seriously. “I’m glad you’re coming back to finish the quarter.”

Sloan shrugged. “I like teaching,” she murmured. “I like the students, and, well, I certainly owe you that much!”

“You owe yourself, Sloan, and you owe Wes,” Jim advised softly. “Remember that. Now—” He stared at her sternly. “Get out!”

“Okay, okay!” Sloan laughed. “I’ll get everything going smoothly!”

Her shower went smoothly; that was all that did. She burned dinner, knocked her iced tea all over the table, and put Terry’s sleeper on inside out. After she stubbed her toe viciously while pacing the living room, Florence finally spoke up in the stern voice she used occasionally on the children.

“Settle down, young lady,” she commanded. “You’re wearing yourself to a frazzle. You’ll be a pathetic-looking bride in the morning if you keep this up! Wesley will get here, but you can’t make him get here any faster by chewing off your manicure.”

Wincing while she held her toe, Sloan had to agree. “I think I’ll fix myself a scotch and see what’s on TV.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll even join you!”

Florence kept up a stream of chatter as they sat over scotches, tactfully keeping Sloan’s mind busy. They slowly went over all of the arrangements together and arrived at the conclusion that nothing had been forgotten. Then, as the eleven o’clock news came on, Sloan caught her new housekeeper-friend yawning and winced. She had been so embroiled with her own thoughts that she had given no consideration to Florence!

“Okay, young lady,” Sloan said gruffly, imitating Florence’s own tone. “Up to bed with you! You’ve been a doll! An absolute doll. But I’m fine now, I really am, and I can wait by myself.”

Florence was uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“Believe me.” Sloan laughed. “I’m calm! Three stiff scotches and I’m not just calm—I’m almost out on my feet!”

“All right, then.” Florence stifled another yawn and sheepishly admitted she was half-asleep already.

“See you in the morning,” she said, kissing Sloan’s cheek affectionately. “Give Wes my